


Damnation

by Indiana_J



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indiana_J/pseuds/Indiana_J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If one is going to be married to Watson - and thereby, Holmes - one has to be a step ahead of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damnation

**Author's Note:**

> No beta and it was written for the Awesome Ladies Ficathon on for the prompt Sherlock Holmes, Mary Morstan, "solving a case"

When Mary returned home from shopping, she had expected to find a warm home filled with a husband. What she found, however, was a cold hearth and no husband at all. She didn't really need to read the hastily scribbled note on the mantel since she'd seen a dozen of their siblings over the length of her married life.

"Dearest Mary," she intoned to an empty study, "Sherlock is in a right snit, must go play nanny, love, your brilliant and loving husband, John."

With a sigh, she pocketed the letter and headed for the kitchen to get some tea. "I do wish Sherlock would just find himself a bloody wife instead of insisting upon stealing my husband."

*

"What do you mean you haven't seen them, Mrs. Hudson?" It was raining now and cold as only London could get in that pre-winter pause. Mary stared at the worried face of the older woman as she was ushered into the Baker Streets Residence.

"I haven't seen or heard a word from them since this morning. And while that ain't unusual, Mr. Holmes had an appointment this evening - Inspector Lestrade himself - and there's been no word at all. At the very least, it's not like your husband, no it isn't."

Well, it  _was_  if John had gotten himself locked up once more. But if Lestrade was around than he probably would have checked the gaols, wouldn't he have?

"Is the Inspector still here, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Just left, actually."

Mary smiled. "Well, good, then. Could you go look around and see if they left anything - notes or something - that would potentially point to their whereabouts?"

At that, Mrs. Hudson sighed, shoulders slumping. "I could certainly have a look but the Lord only knows what I'll find amongst that mess that Mr. Holmes keeps..."

*

Her whistle was sharp and loud along the quiet, fog lined street; seconds passed and then, emerging like ghosts, small figures (four of them) broke off and headed towards the house. They hesitated at the stairs as they saw Mary, not Sherlock Holmes, standing at the wait.

She raised her eyebrow, an intimidating look she had learned from her mother, and it stilled all questions.

"Now then," she said, addressing the Baker Street Irregulars, "I have a job for you."

*

Information from the ragtag street urchins that Holmes used, coupled with a hastily, half-drawn map Mrs. Hudson found, armed with an extra of John's cane weapons and dressed like a boy herself, Mary set off.

"You're not going off alone!"

Mary smiled and whistled softly to keep the boys and Gladstone abreast of her.

"No, Mrs. Hudson, certainly not alone."

*

The blade wavered in her hand but for a moment before she tightened her grip on it - after all, it wouldn't do to actually hurt the brute in front of her. Blood did not need to be spilled that day.

"Tell me," she said, calmly, breathing out of her nose, "where my husband is. Or that dog you insisted on attempting to kick is going to make sure you never walk properly again." She eyed Gladstone's gaze. "You might wish to talk faster, sir, as his gaze has wandered upwards."

She had helped John deliver babies, hold down screaming men as he had worked on them in a frenzy to keep them alive; she had sat and watched him slowly heal from the work he did outside of his practice. It was not a matter of  _if_ she could convince this man to talk, it was simply a matter of how long it would take.

There was more steel in her blood at the moment than in the blade in her hand.

*

"You two look a right mess," Mary commented as she peered over the side of the deep, roughly cut out cell in the ground. It smelled of urine and old blood. It smelled of death. But at the moment, the Lord had smiled upon the two men staring up at her with wide eyes. They were only slightly hurt, and dirty, rather than dead.

"Mary -" John's words choked off in surprise as Sherlock Holmes scrambled to his feet.

"Well played, my dear! Found the map, did you? Splendid and - oh, hello, lads, glad to see you -"

"Oh do shut it, Holmes," Mary sighed as she started to lower the rope ladder. "The longer you talk, the longer it takes for me to get back to Mrs. Hudson and a glass of sherry I know she has out for me."

She smiled, slightly, when she heard John whisper "And you told me  _not_  to marry the woman, Holmes."


End file.
